Wartime Lullaby
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: AU. Cho is captured and held prisoner at Malfoy Manor where she is tortured for information about Harry. But even in the darkest hour, there's hope.


AN: For the Title Swap Competition.

I.

"I know her," Draco Malfoy says as Cho is forced into the center of the room. Desperation flares in his eyes, much like a naughty child determined to receive pardon from some misdeed. "She dated Potter. They were still chummy, too."

All around, the air fills with murmurs. Though the atmosphere is still noticeably hostile, there's a new lightness to it. All eyes are on the trembling Ravenclaw, and Cho knows that Draco has sealed her fate.

A witch with dark hair and manic eyes scoffs. "A passing fancy?" she sneers, stepping forward and cracking her palm over Cho's cheek sharply, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make a point. "Useless. The Weasley girl would be helpful. But her?"

"Silence, Bellatrix," comes a cold voice that makes Cho wish she could run.

A figure steps out of the shadows, and Cho feels sick. She's never seen You Know Who in person, but it doesn't take a genius to pick him out in a crowd. This man, this thing, is the reason Cedric is dead, the reason why the world has gone to hell.

An icy hand runs across her stinging cheek. "We could use her, if Draco's information is

correct," he decides, quickly wiping his hand as though Cho has tainted his skin.

"My Lord," the woman, Bellatrix, says quietly. "Wouldn't it be more practical to just kill her now?"

Cho holds her breath. She can't help but to pray for death. Then, she would be with Cedric again, and far away from this nightmare.

But luck is not with her. "Take her away," You Know Who orders.

"My Lord!"

"Do not fret, Bellatrix. You'll get to play soon."

As Cho is shoved towards the staircase, she looks around frantically, silently pleading for someone to have mercy. Only one person catches her eye, a blonde woman who appears almost apologetic. But the woman quickly turns away, hugging Draco close.

II.

Cho screams as the curse shoots through her body, contorting her limbs and flooding her nerves with swearing pain. Her eyes squeeze shut, and, not for the first time, she prays that Bellatrix Lestrange will just grow bored and kill her already.

"Where is he, girl?" the older witch hisses, grabbing a handful of dark hair and pulling. "Look at me!"

Reluctantly, Cho opens her eyes. "I don't know," she croaks weakly, the words a strain on her raw throat.

"So you keep saying," Bellatrix murmurs, releasing her grip and caressing her wand. "Not that I mind. Your screams are quite pretty. Crucio!"

Cho cries out again, gripping the rug for dear life. "I don't know!"

The pain ebbs away, and Cho trembles, trying not to cry. Cedric would want her to be strong. She owes it to him to be brave now. "And if I did," she tacks on through gritted teeth, "I wouldn't tell you!"

"I do love the stubborn ones," Bellatrix laughs. "They're fun to break."

The curse is repeated again and again, and Cho's mind begins to blur. She's vaguely aware of a dampness on her cheeks, but she passes out before she can feel ashamed of the tears.

III.

A soft voice weaves in and out of the darkness. Singing. Someone is singing something that might be a lullaby.

Cho's eyes flutter open, but it's difficult to see. Orbs of light obscure her vision for several seconds.

"Did I wake you?"

Cho forces herself to focus. The blonde woman is there. Cho is certain she's Draco's mum. "Just kill me," she whispers.

"I'm not a murderer," the woman says shortly. Perhaps Cho has offended her.

"Go away..."

But the woman only moves closer, holding a bit of bread. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

"Why? So they can just torture it out of me?"

The woman smiles, but it isn't a cruel smile. She doesn't delight in Cho's pain. Maybe she's sympathetic or even merciful, but Cho knows it won't do any good.

"I'm sorry," the blonde says. "Really, I am."

Cho doesn't reply. Almost grudgingly, she accepts the bread, choking down the dry crumbles. All the while, the woman hums the little lullaby, and Cho finds herself smiling.

IV.

Cho's body feels as though it might give out. Her chest aches, her heart feeling like the strain is crushing it. But the session is over. Once again, she's proven herself completely useless, and she's dragged back to her holding area.

How long has this been going on? Weeks? Months? Sometimes, Cho loses consciousness for what might be days, and it makes it easy for time to lose meaning.

All she knows is that she feels hollow, like they've taken a part of her away, a part that she'll never get back.

"My dignity," she mumbles under her breath.

"What was that, girl?"

"Nothing."

V.

The woman, who Cho learns is called Narcissa, becomes her only comfort. She feeds the prisoner and tends to her wounds, always singing or humming that same sweet song.

"Music has a magic all its own," Narcissa explains as Cho devours a scrap of chicken her newly found ally has snuck her. "Gives you hope. God knows I need it."

Doubt twists Cho's features. "You're loyal to the Death Eaters," she says dryly. "What do you have to hope for? You've got what you wanted."

Narcissa shakes her head. "I never wanted this. And I'm loyal to my family."

Cho wants to point out that, since her family is full of Death Eaters, it's pretty much the same thing, but something tells her that, though this woman has shown nothing but kindness, she can be just as dangerous as her demented sister if pushed.

VI.

Every movement hurts. Every breath feels like daggers being driven into her lungs.

Even Narcissa's wartime lullaby has lost its meaning. The gentle words fall on apathetic ears, failing to reach Cho's heart.

"I can't," she whispers.

She no longer cares that she cries. Let them see. Let them all know how broken she is, how she'll never be pieced back together again.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa says softly.

Once, the words would have been a comfort. Now, Cho feels nothing at all.

VII.

"What's this?" Cho asks, looking at the vial.

"You asked me to kill you once," Narcissa answers, refusing to meet her eye.

"And you said you weren't a murderer," Cho reminds her bitterly.

"It's poison," Narcissa explains, a hint of guilt in her words. "I can't bring myself to kill you, but I don't want you to live like this."

Cho almost laughs. Poison. Narcissa expects her to drink poison.

"An act of mercy," Narcissa says, more to herself than to Cho.

Cho takes the vial, removing the cork. The contents smell sweet. It makes the thought of drinking it more tempting.

"I'm scared," Cho whispers.

"You don't have to do it."

But Cho sees no other choice. They've tortured her for so long, and death is the closest thing left to hope. They have no intention of killing her. They're all still convinced that she's hiding something, that she'll crack soon. They don't realize she's already shattered.

One drink, and it will all be over. One drink, and there will be no more pain.

With trembling hands, she tips the contents into her mouth, tears falling freely.

Narcissa cradles Cho in her arms, holding her close like a mother rocking her child to sleep. And there's the soft little lullaby again, and Cho thinks it's what freedom must sound like.

The song continues until Cho closes her eyes, letting darkness take her.


End file.
